


Harry/Draco Drabbles and Super Short Ficlets

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Enchanted Mistletoe, Fluff, Jealous!Harry, Kink, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Possessive!Harry, Romance, Wet Dream, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: One drabble/ficlet per chapter. I've included rating, word count, and content notes for each drabble. I wanted to collect all my shorter writings in one place, and here they are!





	1. Manners, Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Harry/Draco Last Drabble Writer Standing 2016. Based off the prompt: 'Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention.’ (says Draco to Harry, OoTP)
> 
> Words: 390  
> Rating: R  
> Content: kink, mentions of spanking

“You can’t give detentions anymore, Malfoy, we’re not in school and you’re not Head Boy.”  
  
“All right then,” Malfoy said, lowering his voice and leaning in. “I’ll settle for a spanking.”  
  
Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He looked around to make sure no one else had heard. When he was sure everyone’s attention was still safely on their lattes, he shot back defiantly, “You wouldn’t dare try.”  
  
“Are you sure about that?” Malfoy smirked and raised his eyebrows.  
  
Harry licked his lips, trying not to squirm as tingles ran through his stomach and straight to  _other_  places. Just out of pure curiosity, he decided he’d play along. “You’d have to keep me still enough first.”  
  
“Easy.”  
  
“Ha! If you say so.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet you never spanked anyone before anyways.”  
  
“I would tell you about it, but I have a feeling this isn’t acceptable coworker lunch conversation.”  
  
“No,” Harry agreed, “it’s definitely not.” His toe was tapping on the floor, and he stopped. His espresso suddenly seemed stale, his bacon sandwich dry. Malfoy was bluffing, obviously, he was  _Malfoy_. He was just trying to be cheeky and he knew he could rile Harry up. He clearly had no idea what he was talking about; and yes, this was an inappropriate conversation.  
  
“How would you do it, then, if you’re such an expert?”  
  
Malfoy’s lips twitched. He lowered his voice even more, until it was gratey and moved through Harry in a deliciously aggravating way. “I’ll shoot that wand from your hand so fast you’ll question that so-called Auror training of yours. Then I’ll tie your hands behind your back, turn you around and throw you over your own kitchen table. Kick your legs apart. Tear off your clothes.” Draco stopped and swallowed, his cheeks flushing with every word. He was slightly scowling now, like he was struggling to temper his own onslaught of lust. “Then I’ll make you count each strike of my hand against your bare arse until you’re so red and well-spanked, you’ll never forget your manners again.”  
  
Harry’s heart thumped madly. He shifted in his seat alleviate the pressure on his now half-hard cock.  
  
Malfoy sat back against his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. He cleared his throat and picked up his cappuccino. “Not that I’d dare,” he said as he took a sip.  
  



	2. Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Harry/Draco Last Drabble Writer Standing 2016. Based on the prompt: "Harry’s mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy..." (from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince)
> 
> Words: 365  
> Rating: R  
> Content: Wet Dreams and Fantasies

That couldn’t have been Dreamless Sleep potion Harry had taken last night, because he definitely had dreams. Hot, sweaty dreams. He woke up to find his sheets sticking to him.  
  
It was almost impossible to sit across from Draco at work. Harry’s head pounded from lack of sleep—tossing and turning from steamy fantasies made for a restless night. He couldn’t focus on his work when he had to look at Draco eating that Sugar Quill.  
  
“Could you  _please_  stop slurping?” Harry clenched his fist.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m not done yet.” He looked Harry straight in the eye as he took the length of the quill in his mouth, and then slurped loudly as he pulled it out. Running between his lips, the quill strongly resembled something else: something long and stiff.  
  
That night, Harry’s dreams were full of images of Malfoy’s wet, hot mouth wrapped around Harry’s throbbing cock, slurping him obscenely like he was a big, fat lolly.  
  
“What’s in this Dreamless Sleep you gave me?” Harry asked Ron, catching him between meetings. “It’s not working.”  
  
“It’s not Dreamless Sleep.” Ron smirked and lowered his voice. “It’s something to help you take the edge off.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?”  
  
Ron grinned, flashing teeth. “You’ve been tense. This will help you… uh… de-stress.” Ron winked as he walked away, calling, “You’re welcome, mate,” over his shoulder.  
  
Harry couldn’t believe it, but he had work to do and he could think about how he would murder Ron later. He stepped into his office and regretted it instantly. Draco was bending over, pulling case files from a low shelf. His trousers stretched over the globes of his arse. Sharing an office with Draco was hard enough, but the potion made it torture. Because later that night...  
  
Draco bent over on the bed, sticking his arse up for all of Harry’s viewing pleasure. He looked back at Harry, biting his lip and begging Harry with his eyes. He spread his legs, opening his arse up. Harry was fisting his cock and readying himself to enter that arse just before he woke up.  
  
"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter?"  
  
Harry sighed. "Just daydreaming."


	3. Hot, Hot, Hotter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy still challenges Harry. And Harry still needs to beat Malfoy.
> 
> Words: 1,000  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Content: Playing with food

Harry was just about to dip his crisp into the salsa when a rival crisp came out of absolutely nowhere and got in his way.   
  
"Me first," Malfoy said, knocking Harry's hand with his own and scooping up a generous heap of salsa on his tortilla crisp.  
  
_"Malfoy,"_  Harry said through gritted teeth. "Stop getting in my way." He had been floating around Harry the entire party, bumping into him and knocking his drinks over, and no one seemed to notice how annoying it was besides Harry. Harry cursed Hermione for making friends with Malfoy just because they worked together; and she certainly didn't have to invite him to her birthday party.  
  
With a mouthful of crisps, Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he chewed.  
  
Harry tried again, going for the salsa, woefully naked crisp in hand.   
  
Malfoy's second crisp came swooping in and stole the salsa, blocking Harry again.  
  
"Malfoy, quit it!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry,  _Potter_ ," Malfoy spat, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and the hint of a smirk starting on his pink lips. "Is this what you wanted?"  
  
Without warning, Malfoy's salsa-drenched crisp was in Harry's face. Malfoy held it in front of Harry's mouth, and Harry was so surprised, he found his lips parting. No sooner had he opened his mouth when Malfoy popped the crisp in to rest on Harry's tongue, letting the pads of his fingers linger over Harry's lips. Harry closed his mouth, lost in both the fiery flavour of salsa and the even fiery look in Malfoy's eyes.   
  
"Spicy?" Malfoy asked.   
  
"Not at all," Harry lied, feeling the heat on his tongue and roof of his mouth. That was some serious salsa Hermione bought... damn. He swallowed, trying to keep the tears from forming around his eyes. "That was nothing."  
  
"Oh, yeah, big man? What about this?" Malfoy took another crisp from the bowl and dipped it deep into the salsa, gathering up a lot more than before. He held it up again. "Scared now? This is  _hot stuff_."  
  
Harry looked Malfoy dead in the eyes. "Not even a little," he said with utmost confidence. Or at least, pretend confidence. Secretly, he looked at the upheld crisp and inwardly cringed.   
  
Malfoy brought it closer to his mouth until the crisp was pushing at Harry's lips, and once again, Harry opened up. Oh, the fire he saw when that salsa touched his tongue. His whole face felt instantly hot, and he could tell his cheeks must be rosy, because they burned. His mouth burned. His eyes burned!  
  
Malfoy was just looking at him with a stupid, self-satisfied little smile. "Not so tough now, are you, Potter?"  
  
Harry forced himself to swallow the lava-salsa, and then set his jaw. He wanted to knock that smile off Malfoy's pointed, pretty face. Wait, what? Pointed  _ugly_  face. Right.   
  
"Yeah, let's see how you fare,  _Malfoy_ ," Harry said, letting Malfoy's name roll off his tongue. It was on -- it was so on.  
  
He grabbed a large crisp and dipped it into the salsa, making sure to pick up all the green peppery bits. The crisp had more hot peppers on it than red salsa. Malfoy's eyes were wide, just staring at it, but he didn't say a single word. Harry knew he wouldn't, because he knew Malfoy, and Malfoy liked to win challenges. Well, Harry was winning this particular challenge, and this was the moment of victory.  
  
"Open up," Harry taunted as he wriggled the crisp in Malfoy's face, unable to suppress his grin. Especially when Malfoy scowled at him. He didn't even care that salsa was dripping down to his palm. "Come on, part those pretty lips."  
  
Damn! Where had that come from? What was wrong with him tonight?  
  
Malfoy raised both eyebrows in surprise and stared at Harry. And then his expression shifted to concentration, and he let his face relax, and his lips part slowly, and Harry found himself slightly mesmerized. Malfoy looked kept their gazes locked as he opened his mouth wide and took the whole bloody crisp in at once. His mouth closed over the tips of Harry's fingers - his warm, wet mouth and soft, soft lips slid over Harry's skin. Harry's cock stirred to life in point five seconds. His heart raced in his chest. Also, he realized belatedly, his own mouth had dropped open sometime ago. He promptly shut it, and swallowed.   
  
Malfoy chewed the chip with his eyes fucking closed, and he exhaled through his nose as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself. When he opened his eyes again, he immediately went for Harry's hand that had held the chip. He brought it closer to his mouth. He darted his tongue out, licking and kissing Harry's fingers and following the path of the dripped salsa.   
  
Harry was painfully aware of the erection that was forming in his jeans. Every touch of Malfoy's hot tongue send jolts of lust through Harry's skin directly to his groin. Malfoy looked him in the eyes still as he opened up Harry's palm, licking at the sensitive center. Harry's eyes fluttered shut, but he forced himself to keep them open, even as the pleasurable tingles in his body made it difficult to breathe.   
  
Once the salsa was all gone and Harry's hand cleaned up, Malfoy licked his lips, smiled, and let Harry's hand drop.   
  
"I love spicy foods," Malfoy said.   
  
Harry bit his lip.   
  
He spotted the bowl of salsa, and without letting his better judgment get to him, he quickly reached over and dipped a finger into it. He brought the finger to his lips and sucked the salsa off, consciously smearing just a little bit over his lips.   
  
Malfoy's eyes were dark, and his smile was knowing. He leaned in, grabbed Harry around the waist, and came very very close. His mouth was so close to Harry's that Harry held his breath. He closed his eyes. Waiting.  
  
And he felt Malfoy licking the salsa from his lips. He felt Malfoy's warm lips press against his own. Then Malfoy's tongue was in his mouth, tracing Harry's, as if he was licking Harry himself up like he was as deliciously hot as the salsa.   
  
Harry grinned into the kiss, and then kissed Malfoy back.   
  
Complete victory.


	4. A Romance in 1,000 Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out that Malfoy isn't that bad. He's rather great, actually.
> 
> Word Count: 1,000  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Content: Fluff attack, quidditch teammates

Harry decided he didn't want to spend the rest of his life dealing with politicians, so the Auror program was out. He wanted to return to the one thing that had always made him happy, no matter what else was going on in his life. Quidditch.

Every team wanted him. The coaches argued, the managers fought. But Harry knew which team he wanted to play for. The team of his old captain and friend, liver Wood.

But when Harry arrived on the pitch, his gear on and his broom in hand, he never expected to see Draco Malfoy there too.

~

"What's he doing here?"

"Who, Malfoy?" Wood grinned broadly. "Malfoy's our new Chaser. Starts today, same as you."

"And you agreed to that?"

"Oh come on, Harry. He was a great player at Hogwarts. He did great at the tryouts. With the line up I've got this year, I'm sure this is going to be a winning team."

Harry gaped. This had to be a cosmic joke. He and Malfoy on the same team?

Malfoy scowled at him. "Just stay out of my way, and we'll be fine, Potter."

Well, this was a great start to a very long season.

~

During practice, Harry tried to do just that: stay out of Malfoy's way. It wasn't his fault, however, that every time Harry spotted the Snitch glinting in the air, it was fluttering by Malfoy's head.

Harry charged, and Malfoy screamed.

"Are you trying to maul me, Potter?"

"Damn it, Malfoy, quit flailing around! You've scared off the Snitch."

Wood yelled at them both. "If you two don't start getting along, we'll never win the match this Saturday!"

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Just do your job and get the Quaffle into the goal. And stop screaming like a little scared girl."

~

The match against the Falmouth Falcons came all too quickly, and Harry didn't think the team was nearly ready enough for it. Wood seemed to have similar thoughts, because he was a quivering mess that morning.

The Beater for the Falcons was a mean-looking bloke. He kept hitting the Bludger at the Chasers, trying to sweep them off their brooms. It was a ruthless strategy, and Harry was worried.

A big black Bludger was speeding toward Malfoy, and Malfoy was facing the other direction trying to aim the Quaffle.

"Watch out!" Harry yelled, soaring toward Malfoy to beat the Bludger.

~

Harry awoke feeling groggy and aching with pain. With a groan, he tried to sit up but felt strong hands holding him down.

"Not too fast, Potter."

Harry looked up to see Malfoy standing by his bedside. He looked around anxiously. "Where am I?"

"At St Mungo's. You took a Bludger to the stomach."

Harry tried hard to remember, but his head hurt. "The match!" he said finally. "Did we lose? That bloody Golden Snitch was nowhere to be seen!"

"Potter, forget the match. You took a Bludger for me. Why did you do that?"

"You were gonna get hurt."

~

Malfoy called him an idiot, but Harry didn't think he meant it, because he stayed in the hospital with Harry all night. They got bored quickly, so they played Wizarding Chess for hours. Malfoy was irritatingly good at it, and Harry kept losing. He wasn't surprised, though, since he had never been very good at that game, and he had played loads of times with Ron.

Later, Malfoy dozed off in an armchair by the bed. Harry felt a flutter in his stomach as he watched Malfoy sleep.

Why had he taken the Bludger?

Something told him he knew why.

~

Harry was woken by the Mediwizard.

"Oh, hello," he said, sitting up in his bed. "You were in Hogwarts with me, weren't you?" he asked the doctor.

"Yes, I was in Ravenclaw. But I was a few years ahead of you." The doctor nodded at Malfoy. "I still remember him, though. Draco Malfoy, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"He's hard to forget; he was the snottiest thing back then."

Harry laughed. "Well, not much has changed."

"He must have changed a little, staying here with you. That's nice of him."

"Yeah," Harry realized. "It really is."

"Okay, let's check your vitals..."

~

After breakfast, which, to Harry's delight, Malfoy stayed for as well, Harry got a surprise visitor.

"Hi," said the little boy, appearing extremely nervous and fiddling with something in his hand. "My gran's in the other room, and I heard Harry Potter was staying in this one, so I thought I'd come by and see you. I hope that's okay." He bit his lip shyly. He couldn't have been more than ten years old.

Harry smiled. "It's fine. Nice to meet you."

"Can you please sign this for me: I have a big Chocolate Frog Card Collection." The boy held up a wad of cards he'd been holding. "There's you, Mister Potter sir." He held up a second one. "And there's your best mate, Ron Weasley. I like him loads!"

Harry laughed at that. "Yeah, he's all right."

"And here's Dumbledore, and here's Cedric Diggory. He was the first man to face to You Know Who when he returned.

Harry's chest tightened, and he nodded. "That's right. Here, let me sign them."

As he was signing, the boy spotted Malfoy. "Oh, hello," he said. "Are you another one of Harry Potter's best mates?"

Malfoy gaped, and Harry grinned. "He is."

~

"So we're best mates now, are we?" Malfoy asked after the boy left.

"Best mates stay at the hospital while their friends recover."

Malfoy's lips twitched. "Best mates also take Bludgers for one another."

"So you see, that makes us mates then."

Malfoy leaned forward and touched Harry's hand. "Could we maybe be a bit more than best mates?"

Harry's heart skipped. "More than best mates? What's more than that?"

Slowly, Malfoy leaned in further. Harry closed his eyes and felt the press of soft lips.

"Oh, that," he breathed. "I think that would be okay."

So they kissed some more.

 

~

End ♥


	5. Look But Don't Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Weasley's. Harry's Chest Monster.
> 
> Word Count: ~890  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Content: jealous!Harry, possessive!Harry

  
Everybody was being surprisingly welcoming to Draco, and Harry found himself touched. He was so utterly thankful to Hermione for taking Draco by the elbow and leading him to the dining table. He was thankful to Ron for slapping Draco on the back in easy camaraderie, and thankful to Mrs Weasley for smiling at Draco when giving him his plate.  
  
Draco was visibly nervous. His body was tense, and he kept clenching his hands into fists under the table.  
  
"You're doing great," Harry whispered when everyone else was preoccupied, chatting away to one another.  
  
Draco frowned. "I'm fine."  
  
"I know you are, that's what I'm saying." Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed it under the table.  
  
"When their mother hugged me..." Draco swallowed, and he got a fearful look in his eyes. "I just felt so horrible," he whispered.  
  
Harry's chest tightened. "You hugged her back."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
"I'm proud of you."  
  
With a roll of his eyes, Draco scoffed and looked away.  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. "Keep hugging everyone."  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
Harry laughed. "Come on," he wheedled, poking Draco's thigh with his finger. "Hug Ron next."  
  
"Potter," Draco snapped. He made a quick swipe for Harry's side, but Harry was quicker and batted his hand away, laughing.  
  
After dinner - and the five bottles of wine that accompanied the meal - Mrs Weasley corralled them all to the sitting room, using tea and dessert for persuasion. Hermione and Charlie hung back to help her clear the kitchen before readying the tea and the cake.  
  
Harry sat on the sofa and Draco followed, stiffly setting himself down right in the middle.  
  
"Will you relax?" Harry muttered, for which Draco shot him a glare.  
  
"No."  
  
Bill came up to them then. "Hiya, boys," he said, plopping down in the remaining spot next to Draco. "Ahh, it's good to sink into a nice, comfy sofa," he said with a content sigh, even as Draco became rigid as a board and moved inches closer to Harry.  
  
"Oh, hey," said George, grinning broadly. Harry raised his eyebrows when George starting to sit down... between him and Draco. He squeezed his arse in, wiggling his hips and making his own room, before Harry could even react. Soon enough, he was wedged in between them, and things were a lot more squished.  
  
"Hey," Harry complained, but no one noticed him. Both Bill and George's eyes were plastered to Draco.  
  
"Did you enjoy dinner?" George asked.  
  
Draco's face was a mix between affronted and terrified. He'd definitely been caught off guard, both by their presence and the question. "Er..." He looked from George to Bill.  
  
Bill was practically leering. "It's so nice to have you over."  
  
Was Bill's... was his  _hand_  inching closer to Draco's thigh? Harry stared at it, convinced he had only imagined it moved.  
  
"Thank you for having me," Draco said curtly with a polite nod.  
  
"Thank you for coming," George said.  
  
Harry frowned. What were they playing at?  
  
George leaned into Draco. "If you're sick of pansy red wine, Bill and I have got some much harder stuff."  
  
"It's back in our room," Bill said, grinning.  
  
Again, Draco looked back and forth between them. "I... I think I've had enough to drink."  
  
"I've seen you drink half a glass of wine," Bill said. "Come with us to get something stronger... Better. It'll loosen you up."  
  
This time, Bill's hand  _did_  move. Right onto Draco's knee.  
  
Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his face.  
  
"Yeah, you seem tense," George was saying, his own hand slowly straying.  
  
Before George's hand could also make contact, Harry jumped out of his seat, making all three of them look up at him.  
  
"Listen," Harry said, his heart beating fast, "Draco's  _my_  date tonight. Hands off, yeah?"  
  
With that, he took Draco's hand and pulled him up from his seat. Keeping a tight grip on him, he dragged Draco from the room, ignoring George and Bill's calls of, "But we did nothing wrong!"  
  
"Yeah. Right," he muttered to himself.  
  
"Potter... Where are you taking me?"  
  
He didn't answer as he pulled Draco up the stairs. The room he was sharing with Ron was dark, and the moon shone a soft light through the window. Only when they were inside, with the door shut, did Harry turn to face him.  
  
Not that he let go.  
  
"Seeing them touch you..." His breath was coming hard. He crowded Draco against the wall.  
  
Draco smirked. "I thought you were all for hugging and such nonsense. What happened?"  
  
"Oh, that wasn't hugging," Harry said, shaking his head. "What they did wasn't hugging."  
  
"And that bothers you?" Draco asked, raising one eyebrow.  
  
Draco was needling him, and Harry knew it; still, he let himself fall into the red that painted his mind.  
  
"Of course it bothered me." He gripped Draco tightly by the waist. Hopefully tight enough to bruise.  
  
"Why?" Draco said.  
  
"I didn't like it."  
  
"Why not?" He raised his chin in mock challenge.  
  
Harry squeezed his hand. "I just didn't like it."  
  
He leaned in and pressed his lips to Draco's, hard. Draco made a sound in his throat and opened his mouth, and Harry snogged him soundly.  
  
"I've changed my mind," Harry said when they parted. "Only I can hug you."  
  
"Okay, Potter." Draco smirked as Harry kissed him again.


	6. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco spend the holidays apart. They reunite over dessert leftovers. 
> 
> Word Count: ~220  
> Rating: PG  
> Content: Romance and ickle sweetness. And pie.

"Finally, you're here," Harry said when he heard a pop of Apparition.

Sure enough, Draco now stood in the entry, shucking off his coat and hanging it on a hook. "I'm here," he said with a smirk. "You seem excited to see me."

"Been waiting all night." Harry was lying on the sofa with his legs up on the arm, feet crossed at the ankles. The Daily Prophet lay open face-down on his lap. "I've saved you some pie."

"What kind?" Draco asked as he perched himself on the edge of the sofa, rubbing Harry's thighs and sending tingles over Harry's skin.

"Pecan - Mrs Weasley's specialty."

"You're too good to me, Potter."

Harry smiled.

"All we had at the Manor was plum pudding.

Harry made a face. "You know what that means."

"What?"

"You'll be spending the holidays with us next year."

Draco's face broke into a grin, and he said in a low voice, as though saying it any louder would make it too real to be true. "You mean, there'll be a next year?"

They had only just gotten together that summer, and it had been a gloriously confusing mess of months.

Heart fluttering, Harry pulled Draco down and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I really hope so," he said, before kissing him again.


	7. Don't Look, You Idiot!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a challenge hosted in 2014 by Vaysh, to choose a passage from The Half-Blood Prince and rewrite it from another point of view. 
> 
> I realize this is not exactly Harry/Draco, but it gives me very shippy feels for some reason. Perhaps just the way they are paying such close attention to each other. (And I love Draco getting yelled at by McGonagall... LOL!)

  
**Original Text:**  
 _from Chapter 18 of Half-Blood Prince_  
  
  
When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron had come down with Lavender), they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout - the Heads of Houses - and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colorless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.  
  
"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time -"  
  
"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall.  
  
Everybody looked around. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that this was less because of Malfoy's rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had reprimanded one of his house.  
  
  
  
 **Vincent Crabbe's POV:**  
 _by me_  
  
  
"This is so pointless," Draco groused. "I shouldn't be sitting here with these half-wits who don't know how to Apparate yet. This is such a waste of time, when I could be working on that fucking assignment."  
  
Vincent whispered, "Maybe I could help you, then you wouldn't be taking so long."  
  
Draco turned to him with a glare. "I told you a hundred times, Crabbe," he snarled in a low voice. "What do you not understand about the word  _secret_?"  
  
"Fine," Vincent mumbled, at the same time as McGonagall's voice boomed over them.  
  
"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!"  
  
Vincent sniggered as Draco turned pink. He was going to be in a right fowl mood now. That is to say, even more so than usual.  
  
"Oh look," Draco said. "Of  _course_  Potter's looking over here."  
  
Vincent couldn't see Potter through the crowd.  
  
" _Don't look_ , you idiot!"  
  
"You just said to look!"  
  
Draco scowled. "Come on." He led the way to the back of the crowd, out of Potter's - and the Professors' - line of vision.


	8. Putting Up with Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is a terror during the holidays.
> 
> Word Count: 265  
> Rating: PG  
> Content: Fluff, sweetness, buttplug and mentions of bottom!draco lol

It was hard celebrating the holidays with Draco.  
  
For one thing, he never cleaned up after himself. His attempt at making sugar cookies resulted in the half the kitchen being doused with flour. The cookies came out burned. And Draco didn’t even feel it was necessary to put on clothes to do the baking. He claimed his apron was enough. Harry protested, until he found how easy it was to fuck Draco over the kitchen table. On top of all the flour.  
  
Another thing was that Draco was pants at buying gifts. He bought the kind of gifts  _he_  could enjoy just as much. For example, he bought Ron a pair of Quidditch tickets they could use ‘together’, because Draco was dying to see the Canons vs the Gargoyles. He bought Hermione a rare book on Potions that he needed for work, that he was going to ‘borrow sometime’. And he had the gall to buy Harry a butt plug… Draco knew Harry’s fantasy was to leave Draco in a plug all day while Harry went to work.  
  
It was now Christmas evening, and they were relaxing at home after a lovely dinner at the Burrow. Harry was knackered from all the festivities, and he plopped down on the sofa by the fire. Draco kindly offered to bring over the extra pudding they brought home, and Harry smiled in thanks. Draco brought it and sat next to him, demanding to be fed. Harry rolled his eyes and fed Draco spoonfuls of pudding in between his own, smiling at Draco’s silliness.  
  
It was all torture, really.


	9. Christmas Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone put enchanted mistletoe all over the place during the Ministry Christmas Party.
> 
> Word Count: 710  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Content: kissing! working together

**1.**  
  
“Oh, great. Just my luck. To be stuck under the mistletoe with Harry sodding Potter.”  
  
Potter glared. “Well, it’s not like I’m gagging to snog you, either.”  
  
Draco sighed long and exasperatedly. “So I assume you just  _happened_  to casually stroll right near me when you saw I was stuck in place by that blasted mistletoe overhead?”  
  
Potter’s eyes widened. “Malfoy, if you’re insinuating I purposefully got myself in this situation because I have some secret desire to kiss you, you’re absolutely bonkers.”  
  
Draco crossed his arms and said nothing. He stared sullenly at the rest of the party. He was glued to the spot until he and Potter kissed, so as far as he knew, he’d be standing right here the whole rest of the night. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Because honestly…  
  
“Why  _wouldn’t_  you want to kiss me?”  
  
Potter raised his eyebrows.  
  
“I’m a catch, Potter, surely you realize that. You should be asking to kiss me.”  
  
“Oh, is that right?”  
  
“Yes, it is. The real question is, would I deign to kiss  _you_?”  
  
“Well, you’ll  _deign_  to do it if you ever want to move from this spot. Unless you fancy the idea of being rooted right here until sunrise. Personally, though, I’d rather not.”  
  
“Are you saying … Are you saying we should just do it?”  
  
“We could just get it over with, yeah.”  
  
Draco swallowed. “Well, then…”  
  
Potter hesitated, and then slowly leaned in. Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, and before he knew it, he felt a soft press of lips against his own. And then it was all over.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, Potter was already stepped away. “See you, then,” he said, and Draco thought he might have imagined how pink Potter’s face had become.  
  
  
  
 **2.**  
  
“Bloody hell, not again.”  
  
Draco couldn’t believe his luck. “Why do you keep cropping up next to me, Potter?”  
  
Potter shoved his hands into his pockets and was grumbling. “Whose idea was it to place so much damned mistletoe everywhere. It’s like every three feet, there’s another sprig of it.”  
  
“Probably one of  _your_  friends.”  
  
“Why would it be one of  _my_  friends? If anything, it was probably Parkinson.”  
  
“Because your friends have all the stupid ideas.”  
  
Potter scoffed and turned away.  
  
“Well, shall we?”  
  
Potter didn’t face him, but his cheeks coloured remarkably fast. “All right, then,” he mumbled.  
  
“You realize you’re going to have to look at me, don’t you? I’m pretty sure the rules are it has to be a mouth on mouth kiss.” Even as he spoke the words aloud, Draco felt himself warm up pleasantly. But surely that was all the punch.  
  
Potter surprised him by grabbing his elbow and pulling him close. And Draco’s body temperature shot up alarmingly. He closed his eyes, waiting for it.  
  
When their lips touched, Draco realized he’d been holding his breath, and he exhaled through his nose. Potter’s hand was still on his elbow. The kiss felt longer this time - felt like ages.  
  
Finally, Potter pulled away, letting go of Draco’s arm. His lips quirked in a little smile, that instantly fell. “Right. See you. Again.” He gave an awkward wave and walked away, leaving Draco flustered and staring.  
  
  
  
 **3.**  
  
Draco was on his way back from the loo - too many glasses of punch - and was bombarded by someone.  
  
“Hey! What the - Potter?”  
  
Potter pressed him into the wall. “Don’t go back into the party just yet.” He bit his lip. “It’s less crowded here in the hall.”  
  
Draco, he had to admit, was quite alarmed. He pushed back with his palms flat on Potter’s chest, though Potter didn’t budge. “Potter, are you pissed?”  
  
Potter shook his head. “I must be.”  
  
“You’re making no sense.” Draco’s heart had doubled its pace, and he felt hot all over. Potter’s chest was firm in his hands, and Potter was holding him and putting their bodies close.  
  
“I know,” Potter said. “But the party’s almost over, and all I can think about is another kiss.”  
  
Draco swallowed. “But… But we’re not under any mistletoe.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Potter leaned in, and Draco melted against his lips.


	10. Always the Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompts: Yellow Roses, Draco Malfoy, Hufflepuff student. Written in 2012.
> 
> Words: 490  
> Rating: PG  
> Content: jealous!Harry, evil Zacharias Smith, fluffy stuff

The girls in class gossiped about who was likely to receive a Hufflepuff Rose. 

“It’s a good way to raise money to rebuild the school,” Hermione said with a small shrug, blushing and eyeing Ron slyly. 

Harry was sure that he ignored her on purpose, smirking when he saw Ron’s ears redden. When she left them to take her own seat, Ron turned to Harry. “You reckon I should just get her a bloody rose?”

“I don’t know, mate. She obviously wants one.”

Ron snorted. “Girls.”

“Can’t hurt, right?”

“I ‘spose not,” Ron answered, biting his lip. “Merlin’s saggy bollocks, speaking of....”

In a flutter of wings, owls swept through the door of the Transfigurations classroom like it was the Great Hall at breakfast. Each held a delicate, yellow rose between its claws. Everyone was curious to see who got one - embarrassingly, Harry recieved four from various first-year girls whom he didn’t know. Ron sniggered from next to him, and Harry smacked him in the arm. 

Padma Patil got one, and so did Susan Bones. But most surprisingly of all, Harry spotted a rather lush, yellow rose laying right in front of Draco Malfoy.

“Who the hell got Malfoy a rose?” he whispered to Ron, who frowned and shook his head. 

Harry observed the way Malfoy’s cheeks flushed when he looked down at the note. Then, a pale fist crinkled the parchment and tossed it with the rose, which burst into flames. Harry flinched and blinked a couple of times - whoever gave Malfoy that rose was not someone whom Malfoy liked, apparently. 

He wondered who that person was; it bothered him throughout the entire period. 

After class, Harry was one of the last to file out the door with Ron and Hermione. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy being herded against the wall of the corridor, by Zacharias Smith. For some reason, the sight caused Harry’s stomach to drop. Ignoring his friends, Harry stepped closer and caught the end of Smith’s sentence. 

“... thought you’d like it.”

Malfoy looked murderous. “Not likely!” He tried to step around Smith, but he was pushed back roughly. His books fell out of his arms and onto the floor. “Look what you’ve done, you thick piece of shit!”

When Malfoy attempted to bend down, Smith grabbed his waist. 

Harry didn’t know how he ended up pinning Smith to the wall by his robes, but that’s where he found himself a moment later. 

“P... p... potter!” Smith stuttered. 

“That’s right. I don’t think he likes you, Smith. Might be best if you leave him alone, eh?”

He let Smith go, and the boy stumbled over his feet as he ran away. 

Harry turned to Malfoy, but he found that he didn’t know what to say. Malfoy hadn’t asked for his help; but there Harry was, protecting Malfoy from potential Hufflepuff molesters. 

Malfoy’s cheeks were pink and his eyes were hard. “Thanks,” he said tersely, and he turned away.


	11. A Dangerous Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 2018 for a drabble challenge hosted by Writcraft in the Drarry Discord server. 
> 
> Word Count: 343  
> Rating: PG  
> Content: romance, my Draco headcanon

I know the truth of course; I’ve known it for a very long time. I am not blind, although even a blind man would see it. It is that painfully obvious.

I used to think it was nothing, his fascination— no, fixation. I attributed it to childish pettiness and boyish fervor. An irritation I was able to ignore.

However as the years went on, I grew more alarmed. It simply wasn’t going away. Instead of fading, it seemed to grow, and I had half a mind to send him off to the continent, to remove him from the problem.

The problem. I could crush the problem with my bare hands. That conniving, insidious little weed, growing like a parasite through the fabric of my family and ruining everything he touched.

I first began to suspect it was a real issue when Draco came home one Easter holiday and, more than was usual, couldn’t seem to shut up about the boy. I snapped at him and made him leave the table before he’d finished his dinner.

But I needed proof. So I waited until he went out and then I tore through his room. I looked in his backpack, his diary, in the margins of his school books— anywhere he might betray a confession. And finally, in one of the textbooks, there it was. I nearly gasped.

A whole page, absolutely covered. I could just picture him mindlessly scribbling and it made my stomach roil.

Lightning bolts. Hundreds of them. The lines sharp and jagged enough to stab me in the heart.

“Draco,” I called to him.

He entered my study with that cocky smirk that I could have slapped off his face. Not a care in the world. Not a thought in that empty head. He was spoiled and naive, and in so many ways still a child. A child with a dangerous crush.

“Yes Father?”

I thrust the book at him, open to the page, and his eyes went wide; a caught deer. But Draco had always been a fawn.

“Stupid boy.”


End file.
